The Coming of the Dark Trinity
by Daisensei Ben
Summary: What if the Angels weren't Angels? What if they were truly the Fallen?


Disclaimer: this fic, while being written by me, contains characters that are not under my ownership. they are instead the property of their respective owners. Please don't sue. 

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Deep in the Antarctic wastes, there was Hell on Earth. Blood, spilled in an orgy of death and greed, made its slow way down the frozen rocks. Blasphemous texts written in forgotten tongues frowned down at the mutilated bodies of the children of Adam. And It, that monstrous emperor of the night, the Tempter of Tempters, the Prince of Murder, roared out Its joy.

Katsuragi heard the beast's howls echoing across the snows and clutched his daughter tighter to him. The words of the rosary spilled from his lips, even as he urged, cajoled, and swore at the snowmobile to go faster. The man-thing was behind him even now, loping through the snows. Misato moaned and stirred. Much as he loved his daughter, Katsuragi prayed she would sleep longer. Much, much longer.

There!

Homebase rose before Katsuragi's eyes, and he felt himself laugh. The Beast called again. Katsuragi continued to laugh.

He didn't even bother shutting off the engine when he dismounted the snowmobile. His mad race to Homebase had shot his nerves, but Katsuragi strove onward, still holding fast to his daughter's still form. His trembling fingers forced him to re-key the commands twice, but eventually the pod opened up.

Only room for one. Only one pod.

Misato was place gently in the pod. A moment's hesitation, then the cross went around her neck.

"Daddy?" The pod slammed shut, silencing her question. Katsuragi began to weep.

He stiffened. The Mockery stood behind him. Still on his knees, Katsuragi shuffled around until he faced the Creature. Laughter was gone now; there were only tears.

"Please… Take me. Spare her. Please. Not her. Oh God, please not her pleasedeargodpleasedon'ttakeher!" Katsuragi huddled into a timid little ball.

"Agreed," hissed across the eternity between them.

Katsuragi looked up. There was the Beast, in all It's hateful glory. There were two eyes, eyes that had seen all of existence. There was utter sincerity and a promise of mercy. There was…

There were teeth.

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It was the year 1999 in the Christian reckoning. It was what would be called Second Impact. On this day, Steve Hattlefield woke up shivering in a cold sweat. On this day, the Pope of the Catholic Church fell over dead after crying out that the end was coming. On this day, Amelie Francou slit her wrist and wrote the word 'Gehenna' on the walls of her bedroom in her own blood. On this day, the children of Malkav cried out as one "Hail, Hail, Hail the Throne of Blood! Hail, Hail, Hail the Devourer!"

On this day, darkness descended upon all mankind.

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It was dark. It was dark for the thinking beasts that held court here disliked the light. And out of the shadows, voices could be heard, filling the air with tongues ancient and terrible.

"When did he begin to move?"

"Three nights ago."

"Three nights?"

"Three nights! Why now? Why now?"

"Nothing is eternal, we all know that. Perhaps the same is for torpor."

"He has lain for centuries. What reason has he for bestirring now?"

"Mayhap something to do with the Land of Ice?"

"Only fifteen years. It is possible."

"The Madmen speak now more cryptically than before. They speak of the Children who are not Children. They mention the Mother and Father, but name no details."

"When have they ever? They are demented, truly mad, but I fear the truths they speak."

"The Land of Ice, the Children who are not Children, the Mother and the Father, and finally, the stirring of our beloved sire. Surely all such things are connected."

"There are no coincidences. The gods are moving forward, with us as their agents on earth. It could be that this is… that this is the coming of Gehenna."

"God's wounds!"

There was a grating sound. A door opened. Centuries, millennia of dust fell away from the stone. The Sire Troile stepped forth from his sleep and greeted his children.

"The kine hold the Dark Father."

And so it was that a single command was sent out to all of Clan Brujah.

Come.

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He descended down from the train car into the night. Outside, the platform was lit only by sodium bulbs, casting greenish pools on the ground. Somewhere, something howled.

Shinji shivered. For a minute there, it was like someone had walked over his grave. He gazed out into the neon forest of lights, beckoning him into the city. Small pricks of blue and white, so cold, so far from him. And yet they offered the promise of warmth.

Something was wrong. Something large was loping down from the hills even now. Shinji fingered the necklace at his throat, looking for solace. For the horror from the hills was dark, and offered only pain. And the screams began.

Out in the darkness, over the hill he could just faintly see, the sounds echoed. Men screaming in rage, in fear, in pain. Weapons being fired, planes dropping bombs on targets. A fiendish, hellish glow arose beyond the hills. And through it all, the roar of beasts could be heard.

They weren't animals. He couldn't apply a word so shallow that howling. The sound he heard now was the death-screech of some monstrous thing never meant to be. Pressing his hands against his ears, he wanted only to stop that sound.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Shinji whirled. Even through the flesh of his palms, that whisper reached him.

The woman went on, ignoring his shock. "I've always admired the way the kine will throw themselves into any fray, regardless of their chances of winning. Perhaps, if you live for such a short time, you need to prove you are alive. When sickness, happenstance, violence, misfortune, old age, senility, poverty, and even war can strike you down at any time, what point is there? So the men and women of the kine pick up a brick, or a stone, or a gun, and go out to do battle.

"But why bother at all? They'll all be dead in another seventy years, and we will be the ones walking on their graves. Why fight, when there is no point? When the march of time will only grind them on into dust, why?" She turned to look at Shinji. "Can you tell me, young kine, oh one so young, even by the reckoning of mortals?"

Shinji watched the woman pull back her lips, revealing too-white teeth. Gums receded too, leaving behind pale daggers under the light of the bulbs. She stepped forward, sensuality oozing from her form. He nervously licked his lips, blood pounding in his ears, pounding somewhere else.

Run.

He couldn't.

Run!

He couldn't.

RUN!

He couldn't. Slowly, he fell into her embrace, smelling the softly corrupt scent of her breasts. Shinji's tongue found a treacherous mind of its own, snaking out of his mouth to lick the yielding flesh. The she-beast cooed and stroked his hair with the delicacy of a spider caressing its prey. His erection pressed against her middle thighs, sliding between them. Shinji laughed and wept.

Delicate, marble white fingers stroked his cheek. Her lips closed in on his. Her silver necklace pulled free of her shirt, striking Shinji in the throat.

Growling, Shinji bit her tongue.

With a monstrous roar, the beast pulled away from him. Shinji lunged for her necklace, seizing flesh and metal between his teeth.

Then, the world was spinning, with a curious sensation of weightlessness. That vanished as he struck the tracks, thrown clear of the platform. A bloodied necklace dangled from his lips.

"Fool!" she howled. One bestial claw cradled her wounded bosom. Her shirt was torn away, scraps whirling in the wind. Her breasts were revealed to the world, pale nipples standing out in defiance.

Three shots rang out.

The she-beast howled again.

And then there was fire.

Flesh blackened and twisted. An unholy face, grimaced in agony. Shinji watched as the flame caressed up her skin in a fashion too fast for it to be real. A fanged maw cried out in pain, working beneath twin flecks of cruel ice. Alabaster arms shone gold in the light before they too caught aflame.

In seconds, all that was left, were the ashes. Only a gray stain remained, proclaiming that something unholy in God's sight had once been here.

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They watched the screen intently, sweat beginning to roll down their faces.

"More! More firebombs, more flame units, more grenades, more of everything! Not one step back until they'll all ashes!"

But none of it was working. The relentless push of the Damned continued into the city. All through Central Dogma, speakers relayed the sounds of war most foul: flamethrowers going off, screams of men dying, screams of things that weren't men dying, and most horrible of all, the triumphant roars of the Cherubim.

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Shinji eyed his savior as the lavender woman drove on. They left behind the valley of the screams, rushing forward into the city. Darkness, relieved only by failing electric lights, swam outside his window. The woman stared intently out in front of them, eyes trained on the scar between light and dark.

He cradled the necklace in his hands. Running his fingers over the ankh-like outline, he encountered deep red jewels of amber. More amber beads ran along the chain, reminding his eyes of a rosary.

He pulled off his own necklace to compare the two. His was bone overlaid with bronze. Runes ran along the ankh itself, a stain in the bone bringing out the characters themselves. The one from that woman gleamed a silver color, flatter where Shinji's was rounded.

"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner," apologized the lavender woman.

Shinji started out of his ruminations. "N-no. It's all right." He cast about for words for a moment. "You're Captain Katsuragi, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but you can just call me Misato."

The ensuing silence was broken only by Shinji's hesitant noises. "Go on, you can ask me anything," Misato finally said.

"Misato-san, that woman, that thing back there? What was it?"

Misato heaved a sigh. Her eyes said much. "I guess you may as well know. It sounds more than a little crazy, though.

"They're called Cherubim, at least by us. We don't know what they call themselves. No one knows a whole lot about them, but we think they've been in human society for a long time. We do know that they're very dangerous."

"Yes, very," murmured Shinji. Thoughts whirled in his head. "Misato-san, do you know why my father called me here?"

"To keep you safe," answered Misato confidently. "He never said as much, but I can't imagine any other reason."

Shinji had his doubts.

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The Church of the Good Shepherd of Tokyo-3 was not an old church. When the city was first built, a vast number of persons moved into the city, looking for work. In the blasted heath that was the world, such work was scarce and precious. What were first world countries before Second Impact were now crippled nearly to ruin. Those countries, like China and the Philippines, who were just on the verge of achieving some form of stable economy found themselves thrown into economic collapse. The ever-present summer in the northern hemisphere slowly began to crush agriculture. And from the loss of agriculture, economic systems across the globe were crashing downward.

Into this world stepped those who would come to populate the city. They were desperate for jobs, needing money and food. NERV, a bold new organized, needed people with strong backs or sharp minds, and wasn't shy about paying for those strong backs and sharp minds. It was a perfect arrangement.

But, NERV personnel though they may be, these people brought with them faith. While the Japanese are known for their pragmatism and agnostic outlook, there were those who needed a central figure of comfort in a world gone mad. Thus came the Church of the Good Shepherd. It was headed by Reverend Kei Makino, a man of kind heart and a soul utterly devoted to his flock.

"We must hold fast in these times of troubles," he told the parishioners. "We must place our faith in God, place our faith in Him, that He will keep us safe. Remember, there are always trials, and we can only face them head on."

Reverend Makino looked out on the frightened crowd, understanding he couldn't allay their fears completely. Far in the distance, the sound of bombs dropping could be heard. More of the worshippers began weeping at that. Sobs floated through the sanctuary, coupling with the clink of rosary beads.

And above it all, a monstrous howling that Reverend Makino associated with the wailing of the Damned.

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The thing in soldier's garb knelt on the ground. "Bless me, father, for I have sinned. It has been... many years since my last confession."

There was an invitation to continue, and the creature did. "I have slain the Children of God to feed my unholy hunger. Twelve times since my last confession has this happened, and nearly a hundred times since my Embrace, I have fed upon the humors and fluids of mortal men. Please, I beg you for God's forgiveness."

A creature much like the kneeling thing, frocked in a priest's cassocks, placed it's hand on it's fellow's head. "I know well of the troubles and temptations you face. So too does Almighty God. Find strength on your road, Lost Child. Go now, and be absolved of sins."

The kneeling thing raised it's head, a grateful expression upon it's features.

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Author's Notes: still not a full chapter 01 yet, but getting closer. (This fic is taking way too long)


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